They Hurt Us Out Of Love
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Al recalls moments when his mother had to remind him that, despite what Ed says or does to hurt him, his big brother will always love him. .:. pre-CoS movie; brotherly love or Elricest, your call.


**A/N: I'm such a sap. Really, I am. XD**

**Takes place after the end of the first anime but before the Conqueror of Shamballa movie; basically, during the time while Ed was apart from Al.**

**Also, this is (obviously) in Al's POV. And can be taken as brotherly love or Elricest; your call.**

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For a long time, my mother would entertain me by telling me comforting little details about my early infant and toddler years, the years that nobody but witnesses can remember about oneself.

I remember her telling me these snippets whenever Brother and I would get into our childish tussles, the insignificant fights every set of siblings go through, especially at a young age.

She would sit me down – we'd be alone, because Ed would always be sulking somewhere – and she'd stroke my hair and let me rest in her lap.

"Alphonse," she would say, "Please don't be angry with Edward. He has a short fuse, and because of that, he says things that he doesn't mean to. His temper gets the better of him, a lot like how my father would get sometimes."

I would nod, occasionally with a sniffle, depending on whether or not she was calming me down from crying. I asked once or twice, "Why does he say those things, then, Mommy? Why, when he doesn't mean them?"

She sighed each and every time. She would draw me close to her chest, warming me with her kind softness. "Because, sweetie," she explained, "He's hurt inside, and doesn't know how to show it, so he chooses to hurt others with his words instead. That's why he acts so angry: because he's angry with himself for not understanding his own feelings. Little boys rarely do, and grown-up boys _never_ do. But that's okay. And do you know why?"

And she'd smile at me, a gentle smile, one that all mothers give when they want to tell you something important, and are waiting for you to take the bait. I did. "Why, Mommy?"

She smiled wider, and tapped me on the nose, or kissed me on the cheek. "Because they love us, that's why. My father would get mad at my mother or me, and say some bad things, but then he'd come back and say he was sorry and remind us just how much he loved us. And your brother loves you, so he'll bounce back. You just have to keep yourself from being angry at him so that you can welcome him back with open arms."

I would wipe my tears, then, or I would smile, or do both. However, doubt always arose. "I dunno, Mommy; sometimes I wonder if Brother loves me or not. We don't always get along."

She would sometimes laugh at me in that, 'oh-don't-be-silly' way, or she would shake her head and smile softly, nearly sadly. "Don't think that, Alphonse; never think that. I _know_ that Edward loves you. Know how I know?"

I shook my head. "No." I'd pause, and then bite the bait. "How?"

Another kiss on the cheek, or another tap on the nose, or even nuzzle my neck with her nose. Either way, I would giggle, and she'd inform – no, _remind_ – me:

"Ever since you were born, Ed has loved you. The moment the doctor let your father bring Ed in to see you after your birth, the first thing he did was reach out his chubby little arms to hug you. He smiled, and since he was a year old, we taught him to say your name. And he hasn't stopped saying it since, has he?"

I'd giggle again. "No, he hasn't. But he has to say me name, Mommy; how else would we know who he was talkin' to?"

She smiled. "That's true. But do you know what else?" I shook my head to prod her onward. Mom continued, "The first time you opened your eyes, he was the first person you saw, even before me. That's because he would curl up right next to you and sleep that way, to protect you. And people only protect out of love, no matter how angry they get."

I hung my head. It made sense, but I felt a little embarrassed for some reason.

"And," she added as she ruffled my bangs to help me recover from a blush, "He would hold your hand all the time, starting when you first learned to walk. He guided you when your father or I wasn't looking, and even though he was young, we knew that we could trust him. Edward will always care about you, Al; he's your big brother. But because he's your big brother, he might just torture you a bit, too; but that's what brothers are for, right? You love them, but they never stop driving you crazy!"

And at this point, Mother would tickle me or blow a raspberry on my cheek or belly, and then set me down from her lap with a push or a slap on my bottom.

Then, she'd say, "Now get a move on, Al: go find your stubborn brother and make amends, because no matter what he ever says or does to you, he'll never stop loving you."

I believed her. And I still believe her, even after she's been gone for years and Brother and I have gone through so much ourselves.

In fact… you might say that her words only became more truthful as the years have dragged on, because through it all, Ed has never stopped doing things out of his love for me. And the same goes for what I've done because of my love for him.

I mean, I don't fully remember a lot of those aforementioned years, but…

But I hear stories, and I know what transpired before and after, and that's enough for me. It's enough to know, even if I can't recall it myself.

You could say, based on our mother's tales, that it was love at first sight; after all, his face had been the first I had seen, and I know for a fact – because Mother also liked to remind Edward of similar things when I was the one who won our miniature battles – that his name was the first word I had spoken as a toddler.

So there you have it: the small moments of things I can barely remember retold to me by my mother, and yet these are the same moments that matter over a decade after they had occurred. Moments I'll never forget hearing about, simply because I never want to forget that Ed loves me, and that I love him, and that no matter where he is now, I'll find him again.


End file.
